The Dugout(72)

The room erupts in laughter, I hear a few cries of “Yes, Polish dill”, and Carson brings his head to his hands. The guys playfully push him around, rag on him, and give me high-fives as I get down off the stool.

I wrap my arms around Carson’s waist and press a kiss to his chest. Thankfully, he doesn’t take my announcement to heart and brings his strong arms around me.

Whispering in my ear he says, “That was sexy as shit, but I’m going to make you pay for that later.”

I can’t wait.





The baseball players have it made. They’ve created a legacy here at Brentwood, which has led to pretty impressive digs. It’s why I’m sitting on a comfy outdoor couch on the rooftop of the loft, swaddled in Carson’s embrace with a giant bowl of M&M’s split between Carson, Romeo, Jason, and me. Gunner has a final tomorrow and chose to stay in his room for the rest of his night. Responsible.

There’s a light breeze coming from the nearby lake and faint music of today’s hits playing in the background. Currently Billie Eilish’s “Bad Guy” is bumping through the wireless speaker. Twinkle lights hang above us, and the conversation of baseball surrounds us.

“Sorry, we must be boring you,” Jason says, after they ran through the competition for the upcoming run for the college baseball World Series. The college baseball season is an odd one and extends past the school year, the regular season not ending until the end of May with regionals picking up at the beginning of June.

Carson chuckles. “Are you kidding me, she’s probably in heaven right now, aren’t you?”

Shamelessly, I nod. “Yes, I am but I have to say, I believe you’re underestimating the strength behind Fairfax’s bats. Their pitching is average, they can pull together some outs in the right moments, but they do give up a lot of hits. What you should fear is their ability to string together multiple doubles in a row. Looking back at their season, they have a fifty percent chance of winning a game by multiple double innings. Their lineup is lethal.”

The guys are silent and they all exchange glances. Romeo is the first to speak when he says, “Shit, I think I just got a boner.” He shifts in his seat, adjusting himself as Carson throws an M&M at him.

“Jesus, dude.”

“What?” He shrugs. “That was really hot. Coach Disik should hire you.”

“I told her that too,” Carson agrees, but I just laugh.

“You guys are sweet, but Brentwood baseball is a boys’ club, always has been, always will be with Disik at the helm.”

“He does tend to hate women,” Jason says. “Remember last year when he told Gentry to break up with his girl? He gave Holt the same speech. He thinks women are a distraction.” Jason laughs and shakes his head. “Yeah, the more I think about it, the more I know Disik would never hire Milly even if she’s valuable to the team. He would be too worried about all the guys trying to hit on her.”

“Huh,” Carson says behind me. “I didn’t think about that. Yeah, they’re a bunch of horny bastards. I wouldn’t trust them not to hit on you, especially after you strike them out with your killer change-up.”

“Which I’m still waiting to see,” Jason says, popping an M&M in his mouth. He’s been picking out the peanut ones, while I’ve been searching for the caramel, occasionally getting surprised by a pretzel M&M. “When are you going to let her pitch to us?”

“Have you been asking?” I ask and then turn to Carson who looks guilty.

“Listen, I wanted to keep you to myself. Is that such a bad thing?”

“Yeah, when your boys want a challenge.” Romeo pops up from the couch. “Let’s grab the stickball and go to the basketball court.”

“Yeah,” Jason says, standing as well while stretching out his wrists. “Let’s see what this coach has.”

Carson stiffens behind me. “You guys, it’s late and—”

“I’d love to.” I smile and pat Carson on the cheek before following them back into the loft, Carson grumbling behind me the entire time. I always love a good challenge.





“Let’s go, Milly.” Clap, clap . . . clap, clap, clap.

The boys chant together as I have two strikes on Carson, a line of them already taken out by my slider and change-up.

Looking very serious, Carson stares at the broken-off broomstick in his hands and then back at me, his light blue eyes blazing at me. My heart flips in my chest as adrenaline pumps through my veins.

Once news spread that we were heading to the loft’s basketball court, the boys all gathered, lined up, and took their shot at hitting against me.

I’ve struck out every one of them, but to their defense, I’m standing pretty close and they’re trying to hit a tennis ball with a broomstick—which I’m sure feels like a toothpick in their hands. Stickball is no joke and only the best of the best can get a hit.

“Two balls, two strikes,” Romeo calls out. “There’s fatigue in Coach’s arm, but there’s also determination to strike out the guy she calls her man.” Romeo and Jason both commentate, holding fake microphones to their mouths. “I don’t know if she has what it takes to deposit one more strike, especially against the team’s blue-eyed dreamboat.”